


Shall We Dance

by flaming_muse



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 07:33:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Mm,” Kurt says noncommittally as his eyes track the bend of Blaine’s slim waist where it’s framed by the wide ribbed hem of his sweater vest.</p>
<p>set in the winter of season 3, spoilers through 3x05 (“The First Time”) and a touch of Kurt’s character background from 4x20 (“Lights Out”).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shall We Dance

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been thinking a lot about what Kurt sees when he watches Blaine performing, and that got me thinking about their approaches to dancing, and that got me thinking about Kurt’s physical attraction to Blaine and what must run through his head in various points in canon. I’m sure I’ll write about this topic again, but here’s a little post-”The First Time” sexual awareness fic. :)

“I think we should do a Hanson song in Glee,” Blaine says, swaying his hips as he dances across his bedroom floor to the music coming from the speakers. “Or a Hanson _week_. That would be amazing.”

Kurt feet are moving with the beat where they dangle off of the side of Blaine’s bed, but it’s not so much in enjoyment of the music as it is from the way his body reacts to watching Blaine dancing. He has some extra energy he needs to burn. “Mm,” he says noncommittally as his eyes track the bend of Blaine’s slim waist where it’s framed by the wide ribbed hem of his sweater vest. He tries not to think too much about how it would feel beneath his hands.

Blaine spins on the ball of his bare foot, the movement neat and perfect. “I know they get written off as a cheesy pop band, but there’s a lot of depth to their lyrics. And we could work out some incredible harmonies.”

“Mm,” Kurt says again, propping his chin up on his hand. Blaine’s dedication to the art form that is pop music is charming and at least mildly contagious, though Kurt has to be kind of sore that a week of his own beloved Broadway standards would be so much harder of a sell. Well, he’d be sore if Blaine were smiling at him any less warmly as he bounces with the beat and spins again. As it is, Kurt has to smile back at him, so filled with affection and simmering desire that there’s no real room for bitterness. “Besides, we all know you have a special place in your heart for cheesy pop bands.”

“We should talk to Mr. Schuester about it,” Blaine says. His arms sweep out to the side as the music swells, the short sleeves of his shirt clinging so very nicely to his biceps, and Kurt chews on the inside of his lip.

It isn’t really what his body wants to be doing with his mouth, if he’s going to be honest, but they’re supposed to be picking a song for Glee, and if he’s distracted by his boyfriend at least Blaine seems to be focused on the music. Kurt can sit there and enjoy the view; he’ll tweak any decisions Blaine makes later.

It’s not that he doesn’t care about the assignment, because he takes seriously every opportunity to perform, especially when he could get a duet with Blaine out of it, but there’s something about the way Blaine gets caught up in the music when he dances that is more compelling than the choice of song right now.

The magnitude of that realization isn’t lost on him. He’s more interested in Blaine than he is in music.

Maybe it’s because Kurt’s still not used to being able to have and to touch at all, maybe he’s still not quite used to them having sex after holding back his hands and his thoughts for so long, maybe it’s because they haven’t had much time alone this week, or maybe it’s just something innately Blaine that’s caught and held Kurt’s attention from the first second they met, but whatever it is Kurt’s more interested in watching Blaine move than anything else right now.

And he can, there’s no reason not to, they’re alone in Blaine’s house, there’s no one to see or to care, and the music has propelled Blaine to his feet from his desk chair so that he can dance across the room seemingly without any self-consciousness, so Kurt lies on his side on the bed and lets himself watch him. He lets himself _admire_ him, because there’s so much to admire, from his ease to his timing to his very, very beautiful body doing one of the things it apparently does best.

Over the years, Kurt has trained his own body to move the way he wants it to. He’s taken classes in ballet and jazz, he’s taught himself how to wave like The Queen and smize and strut like Tyra, he’s danced with Richard Simmons in his room until he can do the moves in his sleep and has endured countless Glee rehearsals for song after song after song with routines of all sorts and has taken from them the endurance and experience he needs to get where he wants to go.

He is disciplined enough to know how to use his body like a tool. He’s shaped it to fit under the clothes he loves and to stand with a straight back no matter what people throw at him. He’s pushed it to pick up new acrobatic skills that might put him over the edge in an audition. He’s learned how to switch himself into the focused mental space to perform choreography without missing a single step, distant enough from it that he can go through the motions without over-thinking them.

And yet, as talented as he knows he is, there’s just something about Blaine dancing that’s so much _better_ than what Kurt can do.

The song switches to something a little bit faster and Blaine’s bouncing steps become more pronounced, his hips swinging and his head bobbing. Kurt sighs out with longing, and his lips press together with the memory of what Blaine’s hipbones feel like against them.

Maybe it isn’t Blaine’s dancing that’s better, he realizes, though Blaine is definitely good at it; Kurt’s always been appreciative of how aesthetically pleasing and talented Blaine is. Maybe it’s knowing Blaine’s body so much better now that’s what’s compelling him, because he knows how it feels when it’s moving not just on stage but against him, too.

“I _love_ this song,” Blaine says, all of him caught up in the rhythm like the music is inside of him, so much a part of him that there’s no reason to be removed from it, even in his own head. He lifts his voice, picking up the lyrics mid-verse and strutting across the rug with a buoyant grin, like the movements are as much a part of his inner language as the words, impossible to separate.

Twisting his fingers in the bedspread so that he doesn’t reach out to touch Blaine as he slides past, Kurt can’t stop himself from noticing the way the muscles of Blaine’s back play beneath the fine fabric of his vest. He can’t help but linger over the way his toned thighs flex and extend in his well-tailored pants. He can’t do anything but admire the perfect shape of his ass as he spins and jumps up into the air with the chorus.

Kurt loves the way Blaine just lets go and lets himself move without holding anything back, on stage, in his bedroom, in _bed_. Blaine’s happy to enjoy every amazing thing his body can do, from leaping splits to punishing pilates routines to new ways to use that flexibility in conjunction with Kurt’s to drive them both wild. He goes for it without hesitation, just throws himself into it.

Where Kurt is precise, Blaine is exuberant. He might care deeply in a performance about getting the steps right, he might care just as much about the judgment of the eyes on him, but he still flings his arms wide, lifts his head to the sky, leaps on couches or struts to center stage, and sings it all out from his heart, nothing restrained, nothing contained, one of the few places Blaine lets all of himself shine.

Kurt’s fortunate enough that he sees that part of Blaine much more often than anyone else, in public and in private. He loves it. Kurt loves that in private with Blaine he can let himself go, too.

Blaine dances over toward the speaker and leans over, his hips still swaying, as he flicks the song to the next track and hops back toward the center of the rug.

Not for the first time, Kurt feels too warm in this room, because even thinking about the way Blaine can bend makes his pulse race and his blood heat. And it’s hard not to think about it when Blaine’s body is right there in front of him, his beautifully proportioned arms stretched out, his shoulders looking so wide, his waist looking so slim, his rib cage trim, his stomach flat, his legs strong, all of him supple and toned, perfect for the dancing he loves so well but perfect, so perfect for other things, too, when his skin is bare and his breathing is hard from exertion of entirely a different -

“Kurt?” Blaine says, and Kurt jerks his gaze back up to Blaine’s face, which is now a bit confused.

“Sorry.” Kurt can feel his cheeks flushing as he pushes himself upright and puts a little distance between them. He arranges his hands in his lap and says primly, “What were you saying?”

Blaine’s eyes go knowing, and he starts to grin. “I was saying,” he says, strolling towards him with the rhythm of the music, “that the only thing that would make this song any better would be getting to dance to it with you.”

Kurt’s laugh is more than a little self-conscious, in part because he was caught when he was so lost in his desires and in part with the heady knowledge that as much as he’s taught himself how to move over the years he’s learned a hundred times more in the time he and Blaine have been dating. Dancing is only a small part of that, but they’ve learned to do it so well.

He lets Blaine help him off the bed and knows now how to fit himself into Blaine’s waiting arms, how to catch his hips and sway with him, how to shimmy and spin to make Blaine’s smile grow. He knows how _not_ to step out of the moment, how to let Blaine be as much as his inspiration as the music. He even knows how to temper his steps when Blaine’s eyes go dusky and his body loses the beat a little.

“I love dancing with you,” Blaine says, catching his hand and drawing him in, and Kurt slips his other hand up his back and knows, too, what it feels like to touch it when there’s nothing between his palm and bare skin, when he can feel every flex and twist of Blaine’s body as they move together in new ways.

Kurt swallows and tries not to get too lost in how it feels now to know everything Blaine’s beautiful body can do, not just on the dance floor but everywhere. It’s a revelation, that these bodies they’ve trained to perform can do so many other things, too.

It’s like a whole new kind of choreography he’s learning, this way Blaine can pull him, drive him as much as music ever could. It’s the way Kurt’s hips can somehow now find just the right rhythm, the way his hands know how hard to squeeze, how carefully to stroke, how his tongue knows how to flutter and his lips know how to tighten when he has his mouth on Blaine’s cock, how his whole body knows where it wants to be, how to get there, how to curl around Blaine, how to push him and place him, how to grind down against him, how to press close and fit chests and stomachs and legs together until they’re lined up just so, how even though they’re taking all of these new steps slowly and carefully his body is utterly certain it knows how to open and hold and push and thrust, how the way he learned to swivel his hips to win a competition is better put to use now driving them both mad, and how Blaine goes with it, with all of it, just listens to Kurt and listens to himself and listens to the rhythms their bodies set together as he bends and twists and begs and strains and uses his strength and his flexibility to get closer, to go faster, to make Kurt absolutely crazy in the back seat or against a door or spread wide in bed, how Blaine just gives everything, tries everything, his muscles trembling and his skin damp with sweat and his eyes wide and shining and so, so filled with love and -

“As much as you love Hanson?” Kurt breaks off his thoughts and makes himself say, even if his voice is high and tight and his cheeks are hot, because _god_ , he never could have stopped himself from touching Blaine for so long if he’d had any idea of what it is like to be able to.

Blaine smiles that devastating smile of his, pulling Kurt closer with the hand at the small of his back, and says with a distinct twinkle in his eyes, “More. Much more.”

Kurt’s breath threatens to catch in his throat, but a sense of rightness settles deep into him as he lets his lips drift over the corner of Blaine’s mouth and says, “Show me.”

“We’re supposed to doing this assignment for Glee,” Blaine reminds him, though he closes the tiny bit of distance between them so that they’re touching from chest to knee as they slowly sway.

“We can do that later,” Kurt tells him, maybe a little shy but still totally sure. Because he knows how to dance, and he knows how to perform, and no matter what he and Blaine will knock their song out of the park. They’re that good.

But as much as Kurt knows how to draw focus and Blaine knows how to own center stage, they can put everything their bodies know how to do to better use. Sure, they’ve both honed their bodies’ abilities to flex and hold and stretch for the stage, but now they can also move together in other ways, more private ways, where they can push their endurance in pleasure instead. They can push their limits for different reasons.

And with Blaine, Kurt _wants_ to.

Everything he’s learned, all of the ballet, all of the Glee routines, all of the targeted exercise he has pushed himself through to reach his goals, all of that, no matter that he was born to perform, it’s all a pale shadow compared to what his body was meant to do, which was this, to _love_ with it, to love someone like _Blaine_ with it, a partner who loves him so perfectly back.

“Okay,” Blaine agrees readily, and he tips his head up to give Kurt a soft kiss, his fingers twisting in the fabric of Kurt’s sweater. The kiss is slow and breathtaking, generous and sweet and yet full of promise.

But then he tucks his cheek against Kurt’s and hums wordlessly into his ear, catching the song once more like it’s as real to him as the beat of his heart. He holds Kurt close and sweeps him up into the music. “After the song is done.”

Kurt’s heart is pounding with his desire to push him back onto the bed and find their own music, but because everything they do together is wonderful, a dream come true, he is smiling when he closes his eyes and lets their bodies move together in this special way, too.


End file.
